


Share My Love With A Warm-Blooded Lover

by sharkdolphin



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Black Jumpsuit of Sin, Blow Job, CMNF, Character Study, Clothed Sex, Cowgirl, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Dom John Deacon, F/M, Light Spanking, Mild Degradation, One Night Stand, POV Alternating, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Fluff, Praise Kink, Reassurance & Comfort, The Works era, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23803294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkdolphin/pseuds/sharkdolphin
Summary: “If I look nervous to you, it’s not because I’m avoiding anyone. Rather, um,I’mthe one chasing. Or trying to, anyway.”Her bashful look finally got the dancer to break into a grin. “Ow, girl! You need to let me in on your plans in that case, honey, ‘cause work’s been a bore and I’m dying for some tea right now,” they said excitedly.“It’s ridiculous,” she mumbled, looking down at her hands that were fidgeting with her clutch purse. She only just managed to hold back a sigh of defeat.The dancer laughed. “What I hear you mean is ‘out of reach’, to which I need to teach you,  nothing andno oneis out of reach when Her Majesty throws a party,” they said knowingly.akaAn apprehensive woman throws caution to the wind for a fling. John affectionately indulges her.
Relationships: John Deacon/Original Female Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I don’t have much of an excuse for this other than [this photo](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/D-w_uoZUYAESy2e.jpg) of John because oh my _gosh_. If that shit doesn’t speak “Daddy Dom” to you then I literally have no idea what will. Lord have _mercy_. 😩🥵
> 
> Anyway, I have a default headcanon that John is grey-ace, and it’s hinted at a bit in here, but not obviously enough for me to feel justified in tagging it. 
> 
> Title is from the lyrics of Hot Stuff by Donna Summer.

“Not too much,” Crystal said, appearing out of thin air to place a cautionary hand on the arm John was holding his cosmo with. “You’ll want to be sober for them.”

He realized Crystal was making a show of waggling his eyebrows, and made a show himself of sighing exasperatedly. Crystal was being _meddlesome_ , not cautionary.

“Surely you have more interesting people to bother, Chris,” he sighed. “I’m not actually _dying_ to have a shag tonight, you know.”

“But she’s cute, Deaks! They’re all pretty cute, in fact.” Crystal grinned. “I’ve counted about six of them now, you can even use a dice roll to decide who you want first.” He smirked, giving a dramatic pause.

“Assuming you’re only in the mood for having them one at a time, and not all at once, of course,” he added, raising his voice over the thumping music to be heard by a passing group of young women, a few of them already aiming curious glances their way.

John sighed, taking hold of his friend’s elbow to firmly guide him away from the gaping onlookers. “Crystal, _behave_.”

“ _Ooh_ ,” he swooned, grinning excitedly at his friend’s display of stern restraint. “But I’m not the one you should be telling to behave, _John_.”

The garishly pink cosmo John was nursing suddenly didn’t seem as fun to drink anymore, and he apologetically waved over a waitstaff to hand the half-empty glass to. Turning back to Crystal, he saw the other man still had all of his determination left, and gave him a withering look.

“I actually decide to turn up for this little song and dance to be polite, to let you lot introduce me to your endless guest list of friends and parade me around to the media, and this is how you treat me.”

“But Freddie _is_ thrilled that you’re here! And so are Roger and Brian!” Crystal exclaimed. For once, his smile was sincere. He clapped John on the shoulder. “I’m just saying, mate, you might as well enjoy yourself while you’re at it.

“I know that appeasing the masses that you haven’t vanished off the face of the planet is a chore to you, but consider the silver lining. There are plenty of women here who’d _kill_ to just spend an hour—”

“Yes, alright, thank you for the compliment, Chris,” John deflected, trying his best not to sound patronizing (because he was flattered, really, but just found all this fuss about one another’s sex appeal a bit _odd_ ), now leading his friend towards the base of a relatively unpopulated flight of stairs, savouring the untainted air that surrounded it. “Okay. If you really, truly believe you’ve found someone whom you think would make a nice companion, I’m not opposed to hearing you out.

“But—” John gave Crystal a warning look before he could be interrupted, “try not to make a big fuss on anyone’s behalf if I turn their advances down, and please don’t be so crude about it when you explain to the others where I’ve gone for the night.”

“You trust my judgement, then?” Crystal grinned triumphantly.

“Please just point me to _one_ person, and not any more,” John said in lieu of admitting it outright.

It took Crystal a surprisingly short time to make his decision. “Now, I don’t know who invited her. Anyway. I’m pretty sure she looked like she wanted to approach you earlier, when you were on the dance floor…”

* * *

She decided, after losing sight of the fifth girl she’d said hello to and subsequently tried tagging along with, that socialising wasn’t worth the energy anymore. 

Loitering near the curtains that sectioned off the resting area for performers, she was surprised when a tall dancer settled themselves against the wall right beside her, clearing their throat and giving her a friendly smile when she looked up.

“You’re looking quite worked up there, honey. How’s the evening been for you?”

“Um. Alright. Quite alright, yeah, thanks.” She knew she was staring a bit at their eyeshadow, but it was too glittery and flawless to merely be _looked_ at.

“No one giving you any trouble? You can always report anyone to one of us, we’re all friends here,” the dancer assured.

“Oh! Right, thank you,” she said. “But, no, if I look nervous to you, it’s not because I’m avoiding anyone. Rather, um, _I’m_ the one chasing. Or trying to, anyway.” 

Her bashful look finally got the dancer to break into a grin. “ _Ow_ , girl! You need to let me in on your plans in that case, honey, ‘cause work’s been a bore and I’m dying for some tea right now,” they said excitedly.

“It’s ridiculous,” she mumbled, looking down at her hands that were fidgeting with her clutch purse. She only just managed to hold back a sigh of defeat.

The dancer laughed. “What I hear you mean is ‘out of reach’, to which I need to teach you, nothing and _no one_ is out of reach when Her Majesty throws a party,” they said knowingly.

She still wasn’t entirely convinced, despite her gratitude at the easy camaraderie she’d found, and so the dancer took it upon themselves to boost her confidence.

“Tell you what,” they said, abruptly moving to stand, taking the woman’s hand to lead her away from the curtains, “we have some rooms upstairs for friends of ours to discreetly use. We’ll go to one right now, and then you can tell me about this plan of yours…”

* * *

John poked his head through the doorway after he knocked. The doorknob was gold-plated. Honestly, these villas were so laughably ostentatious.

“Hullo!” Thankfully, the woman on the couch didn’t react negatively, despite looking a little shocked. “I’m not in the wrong place, am I?”

She had lost her voice. “No, don’t think so,” she said simply, having found it back after some fumbling and stammering. 

John smiled widely. “I heard you were looking for me,” he said, sauntering towards her. “How absolutely rude of me to have kept you waiting.”

Her body language was slightly tense, slightly skittish, so John sat as far from her on the couch as he was able to. “I’ll have to work extra hard to get in your good graces, I suppose,” he teased, delighting in the way a smile crept into her shy expression.

“It’s so _—_ um. It’s nice to meet you,” she said. The grin she directed at him was flirtatious, earnest, and reckless, all at once. In a dash of bravery, she slid along the smooth length of the leather couch to be beside him, tucking her legs below her and tilting her head in what she hoped was sly confidence. 

He laughed because he was thoroughly charmed. “I feel lucky to meet you, likewise.” She was clearly capable of and willing to initiate things, so John let himself lean back against the couch, posture open and inviting. 

Flirting was like dancing, and finding a rhythm with a new partner, irreplaceably unique despite love and lust being so commonplace, was one of his greatest enjoyments. 

She might have hesitated in any other circumstance, but she now brought a hand to the lapel of his jacket, stroking suggestively, her fingers skirting the edge of the lapel, touching his shirt. She’d been gawking at his open collar the whole evening, ogling shamelessly, because what kind of inconceivable resistance could anyone put up against such a nonchalant display of power?

John was regarding her with interest, a heavy-lidded look of appreciation that made her pulse race. She leaned forward, bracing her arm against his chest, and the feeling of being _desired_ was so startlingly addictive that she found herself chasing it in the way she tried mirroring his gaze, batting her eyelashes coyly. “I’m not being too forward, am I?”

Up this close, his smile was even more gorgeous, and she could feel his breath across her cheek, faintly sweet and warm as he replied, “You’re exactly as forward as I want you to be, love.”

The kiss became heated very fast, going from sensual to downright filthy when she opened her mouth and moaned at the feeling of his tongue gliding past her lips. John felt a twinge of arousal in his groin, mingling with his excitement at getting to share such an exhilarating moment with someone.

It didn’t take much to realise she liked him leading the kiss, and John indulged, sliding his tongue against hers, chasing the plushness of her lips, his satisfaction and pleasure building as she became increasingly uninhibited in her boldness. Now leaning completely into him, she could twist and turn and writhe, doing whatever she pleased to knock the breath out of him.

“Let me suck you off, _Daddy_ ,” she purred, grinding against his thigh even as the side of her face was pressed against his shoulder, demure and subservient.

John growled, curling his fingers to possessively grope her ass. “Is that what you’d like?”

She moaned in affirmation, feeling her clit swell and wetness pool around her folds. John smelt of sweat and vodka and aftershave, and she couldn’t get enough.

“Yes, Daddy, I wanna,” she said, murmuring against his neck, licking his Adam’s apple and tasting his skin simply because it felt _good_ to.

She was slightly mortified at how clumsy she was at getting to her knees, but his gentle grip on her forearm provided a reassuring point of contact even as his other hand hovered nearby, ready to sooth, steady, and calm if need be.

“You’re amazing, sweetheart,” John cooed, impulsively leaning down to kiss her nose, unable to contain his mirth.

She was looking at him with a helpless, worshipful gaze that tugged at his heartstrings and ignited the same protective instinct he’d feel towards any submissive partner, a fierce urge to coddle and cherish.

John could feel her rabbiting pulse when he cupped her jaw, and see trepidation mixed with arousal as she reached for his belt with trembling hands. It was always at crucial moments like this that you had to be decisive, he knew, as they were a chance to build trust and intimacy from scratch.

“Take your time to decide if you’re still not entirely sure, love,” he murmured reassuringly, stroking her cheek. He couldn’t help leaning down again to give a quick peck to her lips, either.

She whimpered, overwhelmed with her emotions and struggling to contain her arousal. John’s calloused fingers caressing her face made her insides glow with pleasure, and her pussy clenched in anticipation as she reached into his trousers and felt his erection through the fabric of his pants.

Stumbling and accidentally humiliating herself wouldn’t be so disastrous if John was already looking at her so tenderly, she decided. “I’m sure,” she said.

He shifted in his seat to pull his pants down, exposing his balls and his thick, hard cock. She was so engrossed in the sight that she didn’t notice him also finding her hand on his thigh and moving his palm underneath hers.

The cool foil of the condom packet was finally brought to her attention when John squeezed her hand again. It was a silent offering, hers to decide what to do with, if anything.

She took the packet from his open palm. The idea of putting it on him with her mouth immediately sprang to mind, and she stammered a bit before managing to explain, “I want to taste you first, Daddy.”

Emboldened by his deep, approving hum, she leaned forward, and closed her lips around the head of his cock. Moaning with satisfaction at how wet and warm it felt, she pursed her lips around her teeth as she hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard. She couldn’t believe what she was doing.

“ _Mmm_ , good girl,” John moaned. His hand rested on her shoulder, fingers curling around the back of her neck and carding through her hair. He knew not everyone liked having their hair yanked or head forcefully moved, and so kept his grip loose and passive as she continued to take in more of his length, her mouth soft and smooth and luscious and _incredible_.

She sucked and licked and laved for a delicious few more moments, breathing heavily, before sitting back and tearing the condom packet open, making a charmingly confident show of balancing it against her teeth, her spit-slicked lips pursed suggestively in an ‘o’ shape.

John watched in amazement as she went back down on his cock, wrapping the condom on as far as her mouth could go and rolling the rest of it on with her fingers. She laved and licked and sucked, and the sweet suction of her mouth made pleasure coil tightly in his core, hardening his cock further.

“Get up,” he said. He patted her chin to get her attention.

“I want you to ride me, but there might not be anything left to ride if you don’t take it easy on me,” he joked. While John knew she’d be more than capable of getting herself off one way or another, seeing her kneeling so compliantly had only heightened the possessive urge to take charge of her pleasure. And he’d be better able to achieve that when her body was close enough to touch.

Obeying immediately, she climbed back into his lap, nervousness thankfully dissipating soon after she’d found her balance and sat straddling him. They kissed, sloppily, heatedly, and John took the chance to fondle her and gauge her responsiveness to his various forms of touch.

“You’ll like it a lot better with your panties out of the way, sweetheart,” he purred, lifting her skirt up, groping her ass the way he figured she liked, and smiling when his other hand found the slick softness of her folds as he pushed the thin fabric of her thong aside.

She moaned obscenely, chasing the featherlight touch of his fingers by grinding against them. He stopped moving his hand. “Please, Daddy,” she begged, and John luxuriated in how desperate she sounded, helpless and pleading. “Fuck me.”

Fired up with arousal, he tipped her chin downwards for a kiss, claiming her lips with his, nipping and sucking and drinking in her lovely moans. His index finger circled her labia, finding more slickness, before carefully pushing in; a bit of fingering and she’d be physically ready. 

John broke the kiss with a soft bite to her bottom lip. “How badly do you want my cock, hmm, baby girl?” His cock twitched at how viscerally she reacted to the filthy endearment, her pussy clenching deliciously around his finger.

“Hmm?” He prompted again, agonizingly slow in fingering her. The way she whimpered and curled into herself in an endearing mix of shame and arousal made him want to stop everything and just cuddle her tightly for as long as possible, but they _were_ rather worked up already, and he could feel how much his cock craved release.

He eased his middle finger in, stretching her out a little more. (He’ll cuddle later.) She heaved and gasped and whined. “You’re so wet and needy for it, look at that,” he said, sliding his fingers in and out just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy.

John captured her lips for another searing kiss, humming in approval at how pliant she was; her breast was soft in his hand, her folds were silky smooth, her whimpers pitiful and submissive. It only took him a few more moments to feel her relax around his fingers, delightfully soaked and quivering under his attention.

He would definitely fit. “Beg me nicely and I’ll let you ride my cock.”

“Please,” she choked out. He withdrew his fingers and caressed her folds. “Daddy, _please_.”

“That’s a good girl,” he crooned, giving her breast a squeeze before moving his hands to her waist. “C’mere.”

They maneuvered a little, negotiating with splayed hands and gripped shoulders, and soon she had eased herself down onto his cock. Heat surged deliciously in his core, and it didn’t take them long to build up a hard and fast rhythm.

“How many times do you think I’ll let you come tonight, hmm?” John gritted out. She was panting heavily, too overwhelmed for him to expect an answer, which was alright; it was good to fire up her imagination either way.

He palmed her ass, admiring how debauched she looked with her skirt rucked up around her waist and her crop top rumpled from all the groping and grinding. He leaned forward to mouth along her jaw. “Do you think I’ll let you come at all?”

His cock pulsed at her pitiful whine. She tried grinding even harder, desperately so, begging for forgiveness, for mercy, for release, for everything. Neither of them was going to last very long.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled, “I’m kidding. Of course I’ll let you come.” John heaved for breath and continued thrusting. She’d been responding so well to his dirty talk, he figured he might as well push her over the edge with it.

“You’ve been such a sweet, obedient thing, after all,” he said. He felt for her clit and began rubbing, which punched a breathy moan from her.

“Look at you, bouncing up and down on my cock like a good girl.” Her breaths were hitching, becoming shallower and faster. “You love opening your legs for me and getting fucked in my lap, don’t you?”

She came with an incoherent moan of pleasure, and John only had to thrust a few more moments before he was coming too, relishing in the sweet burn of it, then gathering her into his arms as they both caught their breaths.

John rejoiced in her blissed-out state, happy he’d managed to turn his new friend into something of a boneless puddle. He observed her breathing and body language, feeling her heartbeat return to normal, and smiled to himself when she started to squirm again around his cock, making an embarrassed whine when he tried to lift her head from where it was buried against his chest.

He felt laughter bubble up in him, and tilted her chin up so he could kiss her, once, twice, before his face broke into a grin, and he chuckled mirthfully as he nuzzled her heated cheeks. “You’re amazing,” he murmured, because it really was worth repeating. 

They reluctantly untangled their limbs for her to get up and settle back on the sofa beside John. He made quick work of disposing the condom and tucking himself back in, then removing his jacket. He wrestled with the idea of draping it around her, thinking of how good it’d look on her petite frame, and caved in.

Wordlessly, he stretched his arm around her back, laying his jacket so the sleeves draped over her shoulders, even as she sat up and tilted her head to watch his actions.

Her soft exclamation was followed by a hesitant smile, growing slowly and shyly on her face and further gentling her pretty features. John replied in kind, heart soaring when she let him press a lingering kiss to her lips.

“That was a lot better than what I’m used to,” she quietly admitted, averting her eyes in embarrassment at his delighted grin.

“And you’re still craving another round at the very least, I reckon?” He teased. His chest swelled with affection at the way her cheeks flushed when she hummed in affirmation and nodded her head.

“I have the same craving too, trust me,” he assured, patting her shoulder. “You let me know when you’re ready again, but I’m going to poke around the minibar over there and see what they have, meantime. Fancy anything?”


	2. Chapter 2

Orgasms almost always help people lose their inhibitions, for better or for worse, and John himself was no exception.

With ‘typical, non-sexual interactions’ at parties, you’d need to get to know a person through small talk, which sometimes strayed into the territory of talking about things you might not want to talk about—in the moment, or ever.

And all for what? A brief few hours of feeling good that you’d seemingly connected with many people, when in reality, most of these ephemeral relationships don’t get sustained and fade with time.

With sex, though, it’s almost like you could fast forward past all the partial sincerity and cut straight to the intimacy. Forging such a connection was often the main motivation for John, more so than even the physical pleasure. The relationships were also ephemeral, but at least they felt _worthwhile_.

John smiled to himself as he considered this long-standing observation of his.

The younger woman sitting across from him was drawing patterns in the condensation on her rock glass, head propped up on her elbow, but noticed him and smiled back.

He decided, then, that both of them losing their inhibitions was for the better.

She had removed her tee shirt and skirt earlier, even going so far as to ask for his permission, mumbling sweetly about whether it was okay if she stripped while he remained clothed.

* * *

John whistled in appreciation. “You look great, love,” he said.

She felt her cheeks heat up. The lingerie on her _did_ make her feel sexy, but also kind of silly. “What I’m wearing, I got on discount at a Primark sale,” she admitted, inciting a huff of elated laughter from him.

He helped fold her clothes, found “the bag of supplies” she pointed him to, and placed them inside, laughing when he also found two bottles of lube and an excess of condoms sitting in the paper bag.

“A performer gave them to me,” she weakly defended, equal parts embarrassed and charmed by his contagious grin.

“They’re actually a lot of—well, _supplies_ —all around the drawers and cabinets in this room, you know,” John chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “But this saves us time, in a way!”

* * *

They now sat in comfortable silence, nursing the electrolyte-rich mocktails he had jokingly nagged her into trying. (“Really, you need to stay hydrated, it’s _important_.”)

John felt incredibly lucky that this woman was trusting him so much with her vulnerabilities. Given the situation, he figured the best way he could show his appreciation was to give her as much pleasure as possible tonight.

“Anything in particular you’d like to explore?” He asked conversationally, getting straight to the point because her flickering gazes and licking of her lips were communicating all sorts of renewed interest.

She blinked as surprise and puzzlement crossed her face in quick succession. “I thought we’d both established…that you were going to be…” she fumbled for a moment, “in charge?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t ask for things, love.”

“Oh,” she said, seemingly lost for words.

John let her think on it for a moment. She eventually spoke up. “Casually touching me and treating me like I’m just a toy, like what you did just now—that was hot. But also, you didn’t have to be so gentle.”

“Hmm?” He asked, seeking an elaboration.

“I can take it rough.”

“ _Can_ ,” he echoed. “That doesn’t tell me if you actually like it or not, though,” he observed.

“Uh,” she said, seemingly confused again. “I’m used to it, sort of.”

John reached across for her hand, covering it with his and stroking over her knuckles, willing her to meet his eyes. “Love, can I ask about the kind of sex you’ve had before?”

He paused, and given that she didn’t protest, continued. “Have you asked the people you’ve been with to be rough with you?”

“The men I’ve been with,” she elaborated. “Yeah, quite a few times before.

“Whenever I suspected they’d be, uh, into this kind of thing, I’d strongly hint that I wanted them to be dominant with me. So…yeah.”

She fidgeted, now feeling more self-conscious. “It always came with some form of rough treatment—sometimes it’s choking, sometimes it’s slapping or spanking—and, well, the usual name-calling. Which I don’t mind.”

John hummed thoughtfully. “Thank you for sharing that with me.” He brought her hand up for a kiss. “You said you don’t mind. That’s different from actively liking something, though. And just because a lot of doms like all that roughness, doesn’t mean you’d also like it as much. Isn’t that right?”

She looked at him in wonder, the kind of unabated adoration that made him angry over the status quo submissives—especially women—had to put up with to have such low standards, but also filled him with a selfish, unearned sense of pride.

He pushed both feelings away and re-centered his focus on settling the slight miscommunication at hand. “What I’d like to know, love, are the things _you_ like.”

Her heartbeat quickened at the promise in John’s words and the kindness in his eyes. Saying her next words felt, inexplicably, more intimate than coming in his lap earlier, but she finally steeled herself to say them.

“I do like being manhandled to some degree, and to be treated like I’m just…there to satisfy him. But I also wish, sometimes…” she paused to gather her courage, “to be told nice things. It’s almost like I want the degradation to be followed up with…”

Confident enough he knew what she meant, he tried to encourage her along. “To be followed up with reassurance and comfort, is that it?”

“Yeah, that _is_ it,” she agreed.

John smiled, approvingly and understandingly and beautifully. “Shall we, then?” He prompted, gesturing for her to get up from her barstool as he stood as well. “Couch again, the bed, or…” he trailed off, grinning as he gestured towards the uniquely-shaped piece of furniture next to the bed, “the spanking bench?”

She eyed it curiously. “I’m sorry, what’s—uh—”

He chuckled. “It’s a spanking bench, sweetheart,” he repeated. “Self-explanatory, in a way; meant for tops to spank their bottoms. Usually on the bottom’s bottom.”

The pun made her relax, laughter easing her out of her embarrassment. “Anyway,” John continued, “it’s the shape and comfort the cushioning provides that made me think it’d make a good place to lean against, or lay on. And, it’s not just for spanking.”

His knowing smile, both mischevious and irresistibly confident, rekindled the arousal burning low in her gut. “The bench, then,” she suggested.

She was slightly more familiar with her movements as she settled into John’s lap, who now sat at the edge of the bed nearest to the bench.

John indulged himself in a hug, inhaling deeply and sighing happily at how the hints of floral perfume on her bare skin mingled with the heady post-coital scent of sweat and slick.

It felt easier than before to kiss. He didn’t expect her to whimper when he deepened the kiss, and was surprised at how viscerally she reacted, but pleasantly so. “Aww, sweetheart,” he cooed indulgently, stroking her hair.

John strongly suspected that, rather than the physical sensations provided by rough sex, the main motivation for her to submit sexually was because she enjoyed the humiliation of being condescended to.

It complimented his own preferences awfully well—him wanting to coddle someone and swathe them in dirty talk and sweet nothings in equal measure.

He pulled gently at her shoulders so she was leaned back against him. “Thank you again for sharing your thoughts with me.”

“You’re welcome.”

He kissed her temple, and hugged her again. “I’ve grilled you enough for now, I suppose,” he mused. “You just leave it to me to decide how to take care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” she stammered, feeling her cheeks flush. John sounded so absolutely _sure_ of himself, it made molten excitement coil in her core.

He nipped her earlobe, then soothed it with a swipe of his tongue. “I’m going to take such good care of you, alright, baby girl?”

She whimpered, the pet name already nudging her towards a submissive headspace.

John guided her to stand and walked her over to the bench, smiling to himself when she seemed to preempt his plans and brace some of her weight on her arms.

“Bend over,” he commanded, “legs apart.”

Already, her demeanour had begun to change, gaze lowered and posture unassuming, even though her entire body was alive with need. Heart thumping, she adjusted her posture, hunched over the main seat of the bench, ass up.

“Good girl,” he purred, stroking the bare skin of her thigh, admiring the way she was on display for him. “Aren’t I lucky to have such a pretty little plaything end up in my possession tonight,” he said, giving her ass an appreciative smack.

John thought she was _pretty_? She squirmed on the spot, arousal building. “ _Daddy_ ,” she whined, trying in vain to grind against anything.

“Patience,” he chastised, giving her ass a playful pinch. “If you’re being a very good girl, Daddy will reward you with his cock, alright baby?”

The words might have been a bit much, but getting into the headspace helped John as much as it did his sub for the night, who trembled in anticipation.

Just knowing that she was writhing for it, already hopelessly turned on even though they’d barely started, filled him with confidence and power.

“I’m going to enjoy you slowly and thoroughly,” he said, continuing with his fondling. She liked praise mixed in with debasement, didn’t she? “I’m going to savour your lovely body and take what I want.”

His cock was beginning to stir again, the heady mix of control and the responsibility of taking good care of someone—both sexually and in every other aspect—getting him right back in the mood.

John stood by her side, towering over her. He gripped her chin and used it for leverage to pull her close, up on her feet and balancing her weight on her arms, to whisper a kiss over her mouth.

She _burned_ with need, using everything at her disposal—an obscene moan, the arch of her back, the pleading in her eyes—to coax her Daddy into a deeper kiss, but he had too much self-control, and only chuckled in amusement, giving her cheek an unsatisfyingly chaste peck before pushing her back down to a bent-over position.

“You’re such a dirty little girl, aren’t you? Tempting me with the way you dress.” He ran his hand up her thigh, over her ass.

“Lace bra that lets me see your tits right through.” He unclasped it with an agile pinch of his fingers, smirking as it slid down her arms and left her breasts bare to his gaze.

“A naughty, naughty thong that I can just nudge aside to run my fingers through your _soaking wet cunt_ ,” he purred, actions mirroring his words as he stroked and rubbed, drawing a shuddering moan from her.

John tutted in mock disapproval as he fingered her. “Look at how fucking _filthy_ you are, baby girl. I’m getting hard just from thinking how good you’d feel when I’m pounding into you.”

“Oh my god,” she moaned, “ _yes_ , Daddy.”

“’Yes’ to what, baby?” John questioned. His tone was unimpressed and aloof, even though he had to bite back a smile. Making his partners grovel and beg was _fun_.

She whined, desperate as much as embarrassed. “ _Daddy_ ,” she keened, trying to beg without technically having to.

John chuckled, and withdrew his fingers, now only trailing them over her folds with the lightest of caresses. She squirmed helplessly, chasing his touch by trying to rut against him.

It only earned her a smack on the ass. “You greedy thing,” he chastised. “If you’re going to ask for something, you jolly well do it clearly,” he warned. “I want to hear you beg for my cock.”

She whimpered, shaking her head minutely, seemingly on the brink of tears. John moved beside her and crouched down so he was below her eye-level.

“How are we?” He gently asked, gazing up at her and trying to find any sign of genuine distress.

“Good,” she affirmed, voice shaky with emotion. Lust and adoration and gratitude—they made an intoxicating mix, she realized.

“Colour?” He asked, then realized he didn’t know how familiar she was with the traffic light system. “Are you okay?” He reiterated, voice low and reassuring.

“Yeah, I’m okay, John.”

“Alright,” he said, smiling in approval. “If anything is too much—physically, emotionally, something I do or say you don’t like—you stopping me isn’t going to ruin anything, okay, love? Not at all.” He gave her a comforting smooch on the cheek. “That’s what the word ‘red’ is for.”

A grateful smile settled on her features. “You’re really using that kinky colour scale, huh?” Curling her fingers tentatively into his hair, she brought his face closer to return the cheek kiss. “If I look like I’m gonna cry, trust me, it’s from pleasure rather than pain. But yeah, I’m—green is for good, right? I’m green.”

“It is for ‘good’,” John agreed. “Though I’d still respond to ‘stop’ and ‘no’ in any of its forms, if that wasn’t already clear to you.”

She rested her forehead against his, savouring their mingled breaths for an intimate moment. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Please, stand back up and continue?”

“Alright, baby,” he said, seamlessly easing them back into the scene. “You’re being so sweet and well-behaved, but you still haven’t asked me properly for what you want.”

He took hold of her wrist, moving her hand so he could curl it over his erection. “Look at how fucking hard you’ve made me,” he crooned. “And I think you’re _just_ as worked up as I am.”

She gave him a squeeze through his trousers, palming the base of his cock and stroking his balls, the kind of hesitant yet worshipful touch that got him even harder as he luxuriated in how _good_ his baby girl was being for him.

Taking her wrist, John moved her arm back to the bench. “You love being filled up with my cock, don’t you?” He asked, arousal adding to the growl in his voice. “If you want it so bad, beg for it.”

“Please, Daddy, I want your cock,” she pleaded, trembling in humiliation.

“Where?” John questioned. “Inside you, isn’t it? Try that again.”

“ _Please_ —” she broke off as a sob was torn from her throat, hunching over further and shaking uncontrollably. “Please, Daddy, I want your cock inside me.”

“That’s better,” he crooned, stroking her tear-stained cheek. He refrained from dropping a kiss there. “Easy to admit, wasn’t it?”

She was openly sobbing now, shame and desire and need all adding to the tremor in her broken whimpering. Her shoulders might be tired from leaning over to support her weight; she couldn’t quite tell through the haze of pleasure.

“Good girl,” John encouraged, stroking her cheek, patiently waiting out her outburst of emotion, “you’re doing so, so well.”

A change in position was needed, he decided, for better comfort. “We’ll take a quick break now, okay?” He coaxed her to stand and helped her out of her lingerie.

“Go grab a sip of water while I readjust the bench,” he instructed, after running his hands soothingly over her shoulders and down her back in a quick massage.

She returned a short while later holding a water bottle, which she shyly offered to John.

Affection bloomed in his chest. “Thank you, love,” he said. He took a swig, placed the bottle at the foot of the bed, then carefully guided her to get up on the bench, on her arms and knees.

She moved into place. It was a passive position where she could only take what was given to her, and that thought made her shiver in filthy anticipation.

The sound of John unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly brought a fresh wave of arousal shuddering through her and soaking her cunt.

“Colour?” He asked, as he fiddled with a condom and put it on.

“Green,” she promised. He had coated his fingers with lube, and it was slick and cool on her skin, a stark contrast to the heat pooling low in her core.

“Okay.” He stroked the insides of her thighs, and finally her pussy lips. His fingers were tender yet commanding, sweet yet possessive. “You ready?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and in between John’s reverent gentleness and his heavy breathing and the way he caressed her side while his other hand was slowly, languorously stroking her, she wanted him on every inch of her skin.

He continued teasing for a while more, the slick drag of his cock along her folds making her squirm in desperation before he finally lined himself up and pushed _in_ , entering her fully.

John pulled out and pushed back in, agonisingly slow, enough to draw it out and make her moan. He smiled, incredibly pleased to have found someone who clearly savoured the tension of the moment as much as the sex itself.

He started to thrust, in and out with long strokes. “ _Fuck_ ,” he swore, groaning at how good the wet slide of his cock felt inside her.

Trusting what she’d told him about not just tolerating but liking it rough, he now held back less, quickening the pounding of his hips, setting a demanding pace.

“God, baby girl, I love being inside you,” John gritted out, “filling you up, stretching you out.” He added a spank to her ass for good measure. “Like that too, hmm? Like being used like a fucktoy, bent over and fucked from behind?”

Her incoherent pleas mingled with desperate moans over and over. Her Daddy’s hands were firm on her hips, and the material of his black jeans were slightly rough against the back of her thighs, reminding her of how naked and exposed and deliciously powerless she was.

“Harder, Daddy,” she pleaded. The need she felt in that moment transcended any usual humiliation she would experience when being objectified like this; amazingly, she found herself able to truly _let go_ and simply _take it_. “Use my pussy and fuck me _hard_ , Daddy, oh my god.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” John growled. “Such a dirty mouth, baby— _oh!_ —Shit, I’m close.”

She could also feel her climax building from deep within her, hot and thick and full of lust, as well as other emotions she never thought could exist while being so thoroughly dominated, like _loved_ and _warmed_ and _safe_.

Just the knowledge of how good she was making her Daddy feel made her even more determined to give her all. 

“ _Yes_ , make me take it, Daddy,” she moaned. “Use me and fuck me and come in me, please please _please_ ,” she begged, only realizing after the fact that John really was coming, the brutal pounding of his cock finally pushing her over the edge.

“Yes, Daddy! Come inside me and fill me up, oh my god—” Her orgasm ripped through her, as she frantically fucked back on his cock. “Yes, yes, _yes_ ,” she chanted, feeling her clit throb and her pussy clench, “fucking fill me up with your cum, Daddy!”

John groaned in satisfaction and continued thrusting, helping her ride out the riptides of pleasure that pulled her further into subspace.

They finally slowed to a gradual standstill before he pulled out. She was slumped over in bliss, and he knew with satisfied certainty that they’d both manage to have their fill of pleasure. 

* * *

The younger woman had been pliant to John’s gentle commands after she’d fallen apart beautifully before his eyes. Her responses had been mostly shy mumbles and timid nods, but they were lucid enough for him to help her move through the motions of aftercare.

Her emotions were thankfully consistent, as far as John could tell—content and filled with awe, as she slowly came back down to herself.

He’d moved them to the bed so he could wrap a blanket around her and hold her close. She whined pitifully and trembled while being eased down from the euphoria of extreme submissiveness, but it wasn’t severe, and tapered off after some cuddling.

“Hey, love,” John greeted, when she eventually lifted her head to meet his gaze, blinking away the remnants of subspace. He smiled tenderly as he cradled her face, finally letting himself kiss her on both cheeks like the sap he was. “How are you?” 

Tears sprang abruptly to her eyes as her mind caught up to everything that had happened. She steadied her breath through a watery laugh. “I’m okay, John,” she affirmed. “Way, _way_ more than okay.”

They shared a soft laugh, and a sweet, lingering kiss, then drifted back into companionable silence.

* * *

She spoke up after a while, hesitant, but with a determined look on her face. “I perform in my community club’s symphonic band,” she began, seemingly without preamble. “I play clarinet.

“I used to have stage fright; the thought of standing in front of so many people was intimidating, and I just didn’t like the idea of all the attention, you know?” She smiled ruefully, trying to gauge John’s response, though politeness was probably banking his urge to speak before she’d spoken more.

“So, although the club would give all its performers a chance to rotate as soloists for community shows—charity concerts and flash concerts during public holidays and the like—well, I said I was nervous, right? So I never volunteered to play solo for the longest time.”

She laughed sheepishly. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. That was the odd thing about sex with strangers, wasn’t it? One night together and suddenly your mind could convince you to spill your heart. Or was it the other way around?

“But then I saw one of those concerts you were in on the telly one day. I liked listening to Queen, and this time, the camera crew did a good job of showing you more often than usual.”

She smiled, thankful that John was still listening attentively—then again, it was exactly this level of sincerity she’d dared to expect when she’d committed herself to her harebrained seduction plan.

She took a deep breath. Treasure was most deserved by those who didn’t seek it, and she had no regrets in finishing her anecdote.

“It reminded me that, if _you_ could do it—be yourself, and not really care for the limelight, but also not be frightened by it—if you could do that and still put on a good show…so could I.”

The second or two after she was done talking were unbearably anticipatory, and her heartbeat felt like thunder in her ears.

“Oh,” John gasped. “That’s—I’m floored.”

“I ended up trying my first audition for a soloist role the other week, by the way,” she quickly added on, trying not to cringe. How could she almost forget to mention that part?

John’s delighted laughter made her forget about any embarrassment she had. “My gosh, that’s _amazing_ ,” he said, hugging her tight. “I’m so happy for you, love.”

“Well—” she blushed, shrugging. “Thank _you_ , is what I really mean.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

She sighed, shaking her head in amusement, luxuriating in her warm embrace with John. “We can agree to disagree on that, okay?”

* * *

By the time they’d risen from the bed, dressed, and discreetly made their way to the back porch of the villa as John signaled to a nearby waitstaff to call a cab for her, the party was already winding down from its frenetic high, the hours having outlasted the energy of its guests.

They were relatively alone, standing near the ornate gates, nearby security personnel considerate in their indifference as always.

“I had a good time,” the woman said, and left it at that, because any amount of _thank yous_ she tried would fall short of adequate, anyway.

John smiled in understanding. “So did I,” he agreed. He gave her hand a squeeze from where their fingers intertwined, ready to let go when she did. 

“Goodbye,” she finally said, smiling ruefully as engine noises clued them to the cab that had just pulled up outside the gates.

“Take care of yourself, sweetheart,” John murmured, placing a last kiss to her lips, chaste and sweet, and then he released her from his tender grasp and into the early morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe I managed to get my shit together enough to finish this fic in time to make a birthday post! 😂🎉
> 
> This has been an attempted deconstruction of ‘casual sex’ and ‘sexual promiscuity’ as fluffy concepts, brought to you by your friendly neighbourhood demisexual.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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